Poor Fool, He Makes Me Laugh!
by AngelCeleste85
Summary: Christine is cheating on Erik with Raoul. What'll the Phantom do when he finds out? Rating may change in the future. Being written really fast, though, don't hurt me if it stinks.
1. They Say That This Youth

Disclaimer: If I owned the Phantom of the Opera I'd have better things to do with my time and his than write these stories. I also don't own "Il Muto."  
  
A/N: I think this'll be around seven chapters, but not sure. Take note of the chapter titles! Setting is post-ALW, but you know me: I'll probably be mixing in Leroux also.  
  
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Poor Fool, He Makes Me Laugh! by AngelCeleste85  
  
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Ch. 1 - They Say This Youth...  
  
"Going out, dear?"  
  
Erik looked up from his book to the vision of loveliness before him. Christine had always hinted at becoming a lovely when she reached full bloom. Now she looked just like that white lily in a white dress of delicate lawn suitable for the hour, and a cloak of soft green wool.  
  
"Yes," she said quietly. She had always been quiet and subdued around him now, in the month since he had literally forced her hand. But Erik had kept his word, the Vicomte de Chagny had gone free, and...  
  
"Will you want me to ferry you?" Erik would have loved to keep Christine within his sight at all times, but gave her the choice. After all, he had to trust her now. She was...  
  
"No, thank you. I'll be all right."  
  
"Be safe then, ma cherie," he said, his tone equally soft. He rose, careful to mark his place in the book with a slip of paper, and enfolded his young wife in his arms. "I do not know what I would do without you."  
  
Christine returned the embrace and kissed his masked cheek. "Don't worry, Erik. I will be fine."  
  
That was something else: she had never once used a term of endearment to him. But, given the way he had forced her to marry him, Erik could not blame her. He adjusted her cloak to cover her shoulders a little more, fastened the clasp at her throat and smiled as his hand came into contact with the little band of brushed gold on the ring finger of her left hand.  
  
His ring, for his wife. "Come back to me, dearest."  
  
Christine dropped her eyes. "I will."  
  
Then the young singer was out the door and into the darkness of the fifth cellar beyond.  
  
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Short, I know, but keep reading! And keep feeding!  
  
AC 


	2. Has Set My Lady's Heart Aflame

Disclaimer: I don't own them. Don't sue me, not making money off of this.  
  
A/N: Some Carlotta-bashing. No Raoul-bashing, though. This chapter is pure fluff, but it's the setup for the next chapter.  
  
(( Christine's thoughts ))  
  
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Poor Fool, He Makes Me Laugh! by AngelCeleste85  
  
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Ch. 2 - ...Has Set My Lady's Heart Aflame!  
  
Erik always asked her to come back to him safely, Christine reflected as she poled the long, narrow gondola inexpertly through the water. He cared so much for her, in the few weeks since that horrible night he had made that clear. It was also clear that her husband feared losing her above anything else.  
  
No, he wasn't her husband. He'd never walked down the aisle with her, no priest had watched them exchange vows and rings... She glared at the band that encircled the base of her finger. A ring for her, but none for him. She was bound to him, a man she did not love, but not he to her. Or so it was supposed to be.  
  
Christine would have none of that.  
  
(( He is not my husband! ))  
  
The fury that roused within her propelled her to the other side of the lake quickly and she made the boat fast to the rock. He had taught her to handle the boat, but she was not as strong as he and the lake could often treacherous. It made Erik nervous, she thought, whenever she told him she would be going out alone.  
  
But it made Raoul even more nervous to know that she lived down there with the Phantom of the Opera. And more angry. He had gone down there to save Christine from the masked man's clutches, and in the end she had been forced to give herself to the monster to save the man she truly loved.  
  
Her feet made almost no noise as she raced as quickly as the lawn dress would allow down the tunnel to the Rue Scribe. Raoul would have an unmarked carriage waiting there for her.  
  
And as she pushed the gate open, she was struck by the sunlight's brilliance, shielding her eyes against the brightness of the warm summer day. There was the cab before her, and Raoul himself leading her by the hand through her half-blindness to the cab, considerably dimmer than the street outside. A thump on the roof told the driver that the passengers were seated, and the carriage lurched into motion at a swift clip.  
  
"Hello, dearest," the Vicomte whispered in her ear, holding her close. Almost too close for decency, at least the curtains were drawn on the windows. "Did you have any trouble... with him?"  
  
Christine smiled and hugged him. She never initiated contact with Erik, and where the word from his lips burned her to the soul, from Raoul it was only the sweetest balm possible. "No, he trusts me to stay his wife."  
  
"You never were his wife," her companion told her roughly, his knuckles turning white where his hands rested in his lap.  
  
"Don't tell that to him." Christine loved Raoul, but one of the few faults she knew he had was the fault of jealousy. He could not stand to have Erik's name mentioned in his presence. Nor was the young singer foolish enough to mention anywhere but in the privacy of her own mind that it was a trait he actually shared with the Opera Ghost. "But I won't have to be back until sundown, after that he'll start to worry."  
  
Sure enough, Raoul changed the subject. It was something she loved about him, that she could count on what he would say or do and usually guess correctly. "Have you decided whether you'll accept the role or not?"  
  
He was referring to the Countess in Il Muto: Andre and Firmin had decided to try that production again, to erase the memory of the last time when the Phantom had ended the entire season by sending the chandelier crashing to the floor.  
  
Christine snuggled a little closer into his arms. "I'm tempted to say no, but it's a role I genuinely like. And if I don't, Carlotta will take it back: you know she's horribly miscast for that role."  
  
Raoul shuddered. "I know it all too well. I have no idea what Andre can see in her, but he flatters her shamelessly. As though her ego is not big enough already, the cow."  
  
They laughed and talked quietly: Christine informed the Opera House's patron of the more amusing misdeeds of the workers - somehow a snake, small and harmless, had gotten into Carlotta's wardrobe and they fell over laughing as she told him about the overly large soprano dancing around, pulling her costume every which way and screeching at the top of her lungs during rehearsal for their last major production, trying to get the poor creature out.  
  
"My sympathies are with the snake," Raoul chuckled, eyes bright with the tears of laughter, "for having to spend any time at all in such close proximity to her!"  
  
In return, he brought her up to speed on the gossip of the Parisian elite: how the Comtess de Bricassart had been reliably seen on the arms of half a dozen men, all in one night, and how a British Duchess was suspected of murdering her husband, as the story went. Christine smiled and leaned into his embrace, happy to be with him once more, and the carriage pulled up at Raoul's chateau just outside of Paris.  
  
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Feedback?  
  
AC 


	3. His Lordship Sure Would Die of Shock!

Disclaimer: Must I repeat myself again? I don't own them except in my dreams! Those, however, I do own, stay out of them!  
  
A/N: Pure sap. I'm writing this really quickly (three chapters within 6 hours) and I'm not sure I like how it's working out, but then I'm not an R/C fan anyway. ::loves E/C all the way:: ::blushes since that came out wrong::  
  
(( Christine's thoughts ))  
  
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Poor Fool, He Makes Me Laugh! by AngelCeleste85  
  
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Ch.3 - His Lordship Sure Would Die of Shock!  
  
Christine checked the time on the tall grandfather clock as Raoul ushered her inside his country villa. One servant - Jeannette, she thought - took her cloak and the elderly housekeeper, a kindly woman everyone called Lini, offered to ready a room for Christine.  
  
"That would be fine," Raoul said: the warmth was as evident in his voice as the tenseness. "Jeanette, bring something cool to drink for both of us, the heat is murderous outside." Christine smiled again: the man loved her. "Any time you want to, Christine, you can come here. The room will always be ready for you."  
  
Erik had done the same thing, Christine remembered unguardedly, and the room was still used. There was more to a marriage than merely exchanging rings before a few witnesses and a priest, and that, Erik had not been able to bring himself to do. Not when he saw the tears streaming down her face: he had only kissed them and held her through the night.. Christine had left her bridal bower as virgin as she had come to it, though it wasn't something she had been willing to talk about. Raoul probably thought... No, it didn't matter what he thought, the fact remained that Erik was not her husband and not her lover. (( I love Raoul. ))  
  
Raoul must have seen the troubled expression that came across her face. "Christine, what's wrong?" he asked, leading her to the parlor.  
  
"Only memory, Raoul," she replied.  
  
"Him again. Damn the man! He ruins everything!"  
  
The singer laid her hand on the angry young man's arm. "It's all right, Raoul. It's just that I do live with him, because I have to. He'd try to find you and kill you if I didn't. It's dangerous enough that I'm even here, but -"  
  
"But that's a risk I'm willing to take," Raoul finished. "He wouldn't harm you, it's only I that he would want to kill and I know it. I know his tricks now. I can defend myself. I'm willing to risk it, dear Christine, because I love you."  
  
"I know, Raoul... But I am so scared for you, I don't want him to hurt you."  
  
Raoul's arms came around her one more time and this time she held him tightly.  
  
"Come with me, Christine."  
  
"What?"  
  
It seemed there was a struggle within the young noble's mind, reflected on his face as he sought to find the words he was looking for. "Christine, I love you. You must know that by now. Come back to me, love, come with me. We can leave Paris, travel the world. You'll never have to be afraid of him again."  
  
Christine's eyes were wide. (( He can't be asking what I think he's asking! ))  
  
"I asked you once before, but it was only play, if you would marry me. I'm serious now." He took a deep breath before speaking again.  
  
"Christine, will you marry me? Be my wife?"  
  
A torrent of emotions poured through the young opera diva at those words, spoken with truth and longing behind them from the lips of her beloved. This was what she had always wanted, to marry Raoul de Chagny, and there were his sky-blue eyes looking down into hers with the strangest expression...  
  
(( He thinks I might still reject him. ))  
  
Christine Daae rose up on her toes and kissed Raoul very delicately on the lips, arms behind his neck.  
  
"I would be honored, mon amour," she whispered, watching his eye flood with tears that magnified the brilliance of his smile. "I love you, and only you."  
  
In a flash Raoul had swept her off her feet and whirled her around laughing. "Oh, Christine de Chagny, I never heard such beautiful words in my life as that!  
  
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Feed me? Not really going for much depth right now, I promise I'll edit it and repost a better version, just trying to get the basic ideas out right now, though...  
  
AC85 


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